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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331940">tonight, the devil knows my name</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashgoblinwizardparty/pseuds/trashgoblinwizardparty'>trashgoblinwizardparty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Borgin and Burkes (Harry Potter), Eventual Smut, M/M, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Time Travel Fix-It, sorta - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 13:21:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,267</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26331940</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashgoblinwizardparty/pseuds/trashgoblinwizardparty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A secret in a forgotten corner in the Department of Mysteries proves too irresistible an opportunity for Harry to pass up. </p><p>Unfortunately, he didn't know what exactly he was signing up for.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>131</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Tomarry Reverse Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tonight, the devil knows my name</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>*slides this in under the wire*  yeahhhhh haha. not betaed because i'm a disaster! </p><p>i'll link the art when i get a link for it! </p><p>let's have some time-traveling fun, eh?</p><p>there's some odd text formatting (intentional) but it's done for the Aesthetic™ and probably won't come up much, if at all, in future chapters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>“I stole a time machine,” Harry said, without preamble. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Hermione had both been in the living room when the familiar stag patronus bounded into their house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they stared at it in shock, the patronus continued, “I’ve been planning this for a while, and no, you won’t be able to stop me, since by the time you get this message I’ll already have left.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The patronus finished its message to an empty house as Ron and Hermione apparated as one to Harry’s flat. But it was as the patronus had said. Harry was already gone. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>Two weeks earlier.</b>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry tried to wipe his sweaty palms surreptitiously on the inside of the sleeves of his new robe. He took a deep breath and counted to ten, hoping that would settle the butterflies swarming in his stomach. It was his first day at Ministry, and he was as nervous as he had been during his Hogwarts Sorting eight years ago. Even facing down Voldemort paled in comparison. Harry felt as though he’d rather take on seven Voldemorts all at once than have to endure another first day somewhere. The butterflies in his stomach agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Department of Mysteries still looked much the same as it did at the end of his fifth year. The damage that has been done during that battle was mostly repaired. Only a few things gave away its history—a crack in the wall here, a chipped tile there—most of which would be completely unnoticeable to most people. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Potter?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry turned at the voice. An Unspeakable stood behind him, holding a piece of parchment and gazing at him with strangely colorless eyes. The man was utterly unremarkable in every other way, except for his pale eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was used to being stared at because of his status as The-Boy-Who-Lived, and, more recently, as The-Boy-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who. But even so, the way this Unspeakable was intent upon him was a little unnerving. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er. Yes, that’s me,” Harry said, after realizing it was a question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am Unspeakable Thaddeus Nott, and your case was assigned to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry started at the name ‘Nott,’ remembering that name being among Voldemort’s Death Eaters. He stood there blinking stupidly for a moment, until Unspeakable Nott spoke again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You needn’t be worried, Mister Potter. My brother might have followed the Dark Lord, but my allegiance has always been to the Ministry,” Nott said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry, not having had the best experience with the Ministry in the past, but completely unwilling to broach the subject, simply nodded. Nott’s claim was no doubt meant to be reassuring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This way, if you please,” Nott said, turning on his heel and striding off without even looking to see if Harry followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked down the long corridor that had so haunted Harry’s dreams during his fifth year. Harry reflexively slid his wand into his hand, the wood warm and welcoming, even if it wasn’t his original holly wand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room Unspeakable Nott led him to was plain and unremarkable. There was a plush-looking sofa and an armchair, a rather sad ficus with a sunlight charm hovering above it, and some bland-looking art on the walls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is such an incredible opportunity you’re granting us, Mister Potter,” Nott said, closing the door behind them. “We have never had a human horcrux to study before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Former horcrux,” Harry said, inwardly wincing at how rough his voice sounded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nott gazed at him with those unnerving pale eyes. “Yes, of course, Mister Potter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gestured for Harry to take a seat on the sofa. Harry wasn’t sure if he was meant to lie down or not. Instead, he sat somewhat awkwardly. He had the bizarre impression of being in a muggle psychiatrist’s office. At least, a muggle psychiatrist’s office as seen on television. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should lie down,” Nott said, his voice soft and soothing. “It will be more comfortable for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry looked up at Nott sharply. “I thought you were just going to ask me questions?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I certainly will. But first, I am going to run some diagnostic spells on you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t agree to that!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry made to stand up but Nott placed a surprisingly strong hand on his shoulder. “It’s standard procedure, Mister Potter.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he raised his wand to Harry’s scar and everything went black. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was floating somewhere above his own body, which was lying prone on the sofa. Unspeakable Nott knelt beside him, casting spells with a cool professionalism, and recording his findings aloud to a quill that was furiously scribbling them down on a bit of parchment floating next to his head. Harry blinked down at the tableau before him. Or at least, he thought he blinked. He didn’t seem to have any kind of form, he realized, looking down at where his body ought to have been. Not even a ghostly one. He had the strange impression of being a pair of eyes floating in space. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix it</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His awareness sharpened and focused on the wall. A susurration of whispers was coming from it. For a wild moment, he thought of second year, and the basilisk in the pipes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was drawn towards the sound, helpless as a leaf caught in the current of a river. He slid through the wall like it was nothing. A glowing matrix of spells in hundreds of colors whirled past him. Everything became blurs of shadow punctuated by the glow of magic. At last, he found himself in the Time Room. Here, the damage from the battle during his fifth year was evident. Some things had been cleared away entirely, but others were left with glowing wards to contain them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He was pulled towards the back of the room. Light emanated from a locked cupboard tucked away in the far corner, limning the edges of its doors with blue-white radiance. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>...you can fix it-it…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry stopped right before the cupboard. The light flickered and pulsed, and Harry couldn’t look away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A profusion of conflicting images raced through Harry’s mind. His mum and dad, alive and older, with grey in their hair and wrinkles at the corners of their eyes. Two younger girls, one with wild dark hair and glasses and the other with vibrant red hair and green eyes—whom Harry knew had to be his younger sisters (sisters!)—bickering in the garden of the house in Godric’s Hollow. Sirius, Remus, and Tonks, all three of them raising Teddy together. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>A tall, dark-haired man in Harry’s flat, cooking breakfast—there was something familiar about him, but Harry couldn’t place it.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix-fix it.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Teddy’s first day of Hogwarts, being sent off by his mum, two dads, and godfather. Ginny and Luna wearing wedding dresses and holding hands. Fred, alive, and George, with both ears, at the grand opening of a second Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes shop in the wizarding section of Liverpool. Ron and Hermione greeting Viktor Krum after a quidditch match, with warm smiles and kisses. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it, Harry Potter. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The same handsome, dark-haired man, his features lit by the glow of a spell, gazing at him with such intensity that it made non-corporeal Harry blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The man stepped closer, and Harry was pinned in place by eyes so dark they were nearly black. Harry felt his heart in his distant body pounding like a wild, trapped thing in a cage. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fix it, Harry,” the man said, now close enough Harry could feel the heat of his body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then Harry was being pulled backwards, flying recklessly through walls and spells and then deposited back in his own body lying on a sofa in the Department of Mysteries. Unspeakable Nott had two fingers on the inside of Harry’s wrist, and was frowning at a pocket watch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry came awake with a gasp. He sat up and coughed, trying to catch his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back, Mister Potter,” Nott said, in that soft voice of his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I… what was that?” Harry sputtered. “What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You fainted after I cast the first spell,” Nott said, his pale eyes gleaming. “It was very unexpected.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I went away,” Harry started. He gestured vaguely towards the ceiling. “Like, up? I was floating above my body, and then…” But something stopped him from saying the rest. The part about the cabinet, whispers, and visions. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“An out-of-body experience!” Nott said. “How delightful!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Er. I suppose?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What did you see while you were floating free of your material form?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I…” But he couldn’t make himself say anything else. “I saw the top of your head?” he finished, lamely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Interesting, very interesting,” Nott said. The quill scribbled furiously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And,” Harry cast around for something else to say. “You were checking my pulse?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nott sat back on his heels. “Ah, yes. Just before you awoke, your heart rate spiked.” His pale stare unnerved Harry. “Are you sure you don’t recall anything else about the experience?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cleared his mind, sliding a careful Occlumency barrier in place. “Yes I’m sure.” </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>That night, Harry dreamt of the Department of Mysteries for the first time in years. But instead of the usual long black corridor, he found himself in the Time Room again. The cupboard stood in a corner of the room, untouched by damage. Something inside glowed with such intensity that it outlined the doors and Harry could see all around their edges and every grain in the wood. He was again a bodiless phantom, drawn to the cupboard as if it were a magnet and he were a bit of iron. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix it, Harry.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix what went wrong. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry moved closer, the cupboard was in reach, all he had to do was open the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <strong>BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP</strong>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry shouted and fell to the floor in a tangle of blankets. He scrambled up and slammed his hand down on his wand, which was spinning in place on the nightstand and blaring an alarm spell. For a split second he resented Hermione for teaching him that spell. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He silenced his wand and slumped back down to the floor. He would be going back to the Department of Mysteries to be poked and prodded at by Unspeakable Nott again today. He shuddered at the thought. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, Harry was ready for it. He laid down on the sofa and cleared his mind. The Occlumency barrier was strong, but he tested the edges of it to be sure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unspeakable Nott cast the first spell and Harry was flying free of his body. He didn’t waste any time—he let himself be pulled to the Time Room. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I hear you. Shut up,” Harry muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He braced himself for another barrage of images, but this time none came. He drifted closer. He couldn’t touch it, of course, being bodiless as he was, but he could get a good look at it. It was a rather plain cupboard made of wood and had very little ornamentation. There certainly wasn’t anything about it that was overtly magical. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in a kitchen in one of the houses on Privet Drive, if it weren’t for the fact it was glowing and whispering. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can fix it…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“You keep saying that,” Harry told it. “I don’t know what you mean! Are you broken?” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You must...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You must fix what was broken... </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time is...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time is broken…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Time is broken?” Harry asked. “How?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Harry knew. Had wondered from the start, if this was how it was all supposed to go. Freed from the constraints of his flesh, he could be honest with himself. His scar still ached sometimes. His mind still felt haunted by Voldemort. A year and several mind healers later—each of them giving him a clean bill of health—he still wondered. He and Ginny had broken it off, amicably. He had the feeling he was only holding her back. He felt hollow inside, like a jack-o-lantern scraped of its innards and a candle in place of a soul. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought maybe he could find answers in the Department of Mysteries, but all he found were creepy Unspeakables eager to poke and prod at his mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Time is broken. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You must fix it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix time, Harry Potter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry considered the cupboard again. He wasn’t surprised that it knew his name. Everyone in the wizarding world seemed to. Though, he did wonder how it got its voice to move around like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They can live again. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They were meant to live. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You can keep them from dying in the first place. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Now the images came. More of his parents, growing older. More of his younger sisters, attending Hogwarts. Tonks officially changing their name so they’re Tonks Lupin, and looking so happy. Fred and George having a double wedding, marrying Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet. Snape, smiling at Harry’s mum. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Snape smiling</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Now Harry knew he wasn’t hallucinating, because there’s no way his own mind would come up with something like that. Dumbledore, with Fawkes perched on his shoulder, alive and beaming. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay! Enough! I’ll do it!” Harry shouted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The flow of images stopped abruptly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cupboard flashed once. Harry had the definite sense it was emanating smugness, despite being an inanimate object. A memory from the end of his second year rose to the surface of his mind: Arthur Weasley admonishing Ginny, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Don’t trust something if you can’t see where it keeps its brain!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what to do or how to do it,” Harry said, pushing aside his reservations.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix-fix it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me how!”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix it</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The chorus of whispers continued. The light inside the cupboard flickered.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Harry Potter</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The last voice was horribly familiar. High and cold, full of malice. A chill ran down Harry’s spine. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mister Potter?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was pulled back into his body in the blink of an eye. Disorientation crashed into him like a tidal wave, and he felt like a stranger in his own skin. He sat up and wished he hadn’t, because his head collided with Unspeakable Nott’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow, fuck,” Harry muttered. “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s quite alright Mister Potter,” Nott said, massaging his temple. “You were gone again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Harry said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nott raised his eyebrows. “What did you see this time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember anything,” Harry lied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look rather pale, Mister Potter. Perhaps you should go home and rest?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I think I will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unspeakable Nott escorted him from the Department of Mysteries. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Things remained much the same for the next week, to Harry’s frustration. His sessions with Nott let him wander the Department of Mysteries as a formless being, but he wasn’t able to get into the Time Room to look at the cupboard physically. Too many Unspeakables roamed around, like silent ghosts, popping up at the most inopportune times. Even though he brought the invisibility cloak with him, he was shadowed by at least one Unspeakable at any given time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t until a fortnight later that an opportunity presented itself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was about to start his usual session with Nott when another hooded Unspeakable slid into the room before they could begin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nott,” they said. Harry couldn’t tell if they were a man or a woman. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m rather busy at the moment, Hobbes,” Nott said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s a disturbance in the Hall of Prophecy,” Hobbes said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure it’s not just an echo of the battle that happened there three years ago?” Nott asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re positive.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nott sighed and stood up. Harry lay very still on the sofa. This could be his chance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please stay where you are, Mister Potter. I’ll be back shortly,” Nott said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry gave a little nod and moved as if to get more comfortable on the sofa. Nott pulled the hood of his cloak up and swept silently out the door. Hobbes paused at the door for a moment. Although Harry couldn’t see their face, he had the sense that Hobbes was staring at him. The thought unnerved him for a moment, but then again, he’d been stared at his whole life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Hobbes slipped out the door and shut it silently. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Unspeakables seemed to do everything silently</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Harry thought, annoyed. He strained to listen for any sounds beyond the door, but he heard nothing. Not even departing footsteps. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry counted to ten, and then to be extra sure, counted to ten once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he was reasonably certain there was no one right outside the door, he sat up and pulled his invisibility cloak from a special pocket in his robe—one that had been charmed with an Undetectable Expansion Charm courtesy of Hermione. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cloak slid like water over his shoulders and his body vanished. He had an uneasy sense of </span>
  <em>
    <span>deja vu</span>
  </em>
  <span> looking down at where his body was supposed to be and seeing nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He slid his wand from his pocket, and opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hallway was empty and completely silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry slipped into the hallway and shut the door behind him. A strange feeling came over him. The feeling of freedom to explore as he pleased, just like when he first got the cloak as an eleven-year-old in Hogwarts. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cast a muffling charm on his feet to silence his footsteps (another of Hermione’s tricks—she’d taught him these things under the assumption he’d be an Auror like Ron.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d traveled the corridor with the black door so many times in his dreams that doing it in real life felt as unreal as it had back in fifth year. He paused at the door, listening for any sounds beyond it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The circular room with its blue flame candles was the same as ever. The room spun, and Harry shut his eyes to avoid disorientation. This time, he knew which way to go. The Hall of Prophecy was right beyond the Time Room, but, if he were lucky, he’d be in and out before any of the Unspeakables returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the spinning stopped, Harry strode decisively to the door and cracked it open. There was no one in the room. It looked similar, though with far fewer intact clocks, as it had during fifth year. The door to the Hall of Prophecy was shut, though he thought he could hear muffled shouting and faint thumps beyond. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry closed the door behind him and made a beeline for where the cupboard stood. Unlike when he was an incorporeal free-floating consciousness, it was not glowing, or even looked remarkable at all. If he hadn’t been looking for it specifically Harry had the feeling he’d have missed it entirely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood in front of it, unsure of what to do now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m here,” Harry whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cupboard remained silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, carefully, he reached out and touched a fingertip to the aged brass handle on one of the doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every seam and crack lit up with a blinding, blue-white light. The doors shuddered and the cupboard shook. Startled, Harry backed up a step. The hood of his cloak fell off his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whispering returned, each voice building upon the others until the words were too chaotic to make out. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix fix fix it it it fix it fixfixfix</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The voices he recognized, now. Sirius, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Lavender Brown, Dumbledore, Colin Creevy, Mad-eye Moody. Snape. Even his parents, whose voices he only knew from the memories of others. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fix the timeline, Harry. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <strong>
    <em>Stop hiding and FIX IT</em>
  </strong>
</p><p>
  <span>The doors of the cupboard flew open and something within him unfurled. A longing he’d only felt at night, alone, just as he was about to sleep, or standing in front of the Mirror of Erised in a darkened, unused classroom. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a feeling akin to standing at the edge of a cliff and looking down, but knowing he had his firebolt. Dangerous, but he was prepared. The reason he was here. The reason he’d agreed to let the Unspeakables poke around in his brain. He was so sure that this, right here, was his purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only one thing stopped him from stepping to the light right then and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ron and Hermione’s faces swam in his memory. He pulled out his wand and cast his Patronus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment he was at a loss for what to say. ‘Time Cupboard’ sounded too stupid, so he settled on ‘Time Machine.’ And he wasn’t really stealing it, he reasoned, just borrowing it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sent the stag off. It streaked away, headed straight for Ron and Hermione’s house. Harry took a deep breath, and, hoping he hadn’t just made a fatal mistake, once again closed himself into a cupboard. </span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The first thing Harry became aware of was the cramp in his leg. He was sitting on a hard wooden surface with his knees up to his chest and his chin tucked down. The top of his head brushed another hard surface, and his back and toes were braced against two more. The invisibility cloak was sliding off his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second thing he became aware of was that he’d just done something phenomenally stupid. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did he really just climb into a magic glowing cupboard in the Department of Mysteries? If he’d had the room to move, he’d have smacked himself on the forehead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he nudged at the cupboard door with his elbow. It creaked open and he cautiously peered out. He was in a room absolutely stuffed with strange and sinister oddments, that, even from a glance, reeked of dark magic. He was having </span>
  <em>
    <span>deja vu</span>
  </em>
  <span> again. Except this time it was from the summer before second year, when he’d accidentally floo’d to Borgin and Burkes. In fact, Harry thought, with a prickle of unease, it was almost exactly like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry climbed out of the cupboard, somewhat ungracefully, as one leg had fallen asleep and the other was still cramped. He hoisted himself up using the cupboard door. He appeared to be in a storage room of sorts. Dust motes drifted through beams of weak light streaming in from dirty windows. Shelves and cabinets were filled with artifacts on dusty velvet pillows. There were cups, keys, assorted jewelry, and a jar of what looked like glass eyes. Other, larger items were in the room too, some of them merely shapeless lumps beneath dusty white sheets. Spiderwebs festooned the rafters. Harry had to fight back the urge to sneeze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He carefully shut the cupboard doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not so chatty now, are you?” he murmured to it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cupboard remained unremarkable and unspeaking. In fact, if Harry hadn’t just traveled through time (and space) in it, he would swear it was just a normal cupboard. And, once he shut the doors, it seemed to blend in with its surroundings. He had a nasty feeling he wouldn’t be able to see it if he weren’t looking right at it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry cast around for something to use so he could find it again. His gaze landed upon a red velvet pillow that was strangely not dusty. He snatched the pillow and set it on top of the cupboard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay there,” he told it, feeling very silly for talking to an inanimate object. “I’m going to look around and see where—and when—I am. And then you are going to take me home.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cupboard remained silent. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Harry muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shrugged the invisibility cloak back on, and curled his fingers around the handle of his wand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dust swirled around his invisible feet and an odd, staticy feeling swept across his whole body, making gooseflesh rise on his arms. The thick dust on the floor muffled his footsteps, but he cast the muffling charm on his shoes anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He edged around boxes and chests and made his way to the door. To his relief, the door was slightly ajar, and he could see into the room beyond through the crack. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, Harry thought, his heart sinking as he looked upon the familiar front room of Borgin and Burkes. The shop didn’t look to be open quite yet. From the quality of the light, Harry thought it might be morning, though it was hard to tell in Knockturn Alley. The shop wasn’t much different than it had been when he was twelve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was hope that he wasn’t that far in the past, then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that hope was dashed when a blurry, dark figure appeared on the other side of the front door. Harry couldn’t make them out behind the dusty, wobbly glass of the door. There was the sound of a key in a lock. He made a quick decision and slipped into the front room. His instinct was to duck behind the desk and hide, but he stopped himself from moving. He was wearing the cloak. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry held his breath as the door opened. The tall, dark figure strode purposefully into the shop as if he owned it. A careless wave of his wand sent the sign hanging in the door from “closed” to “open.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The light filtering in through the windows limned the figure’s features in rosy gold. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Harry was very glad he was invisible, and also very glad of his scant few weeks of Auror training before he dropped the program. He stayed silent and still, very careful to let out his breath in a long, slow stream from his nose despite the panic constricting his chest and causing his heart to beat madly. The butterflies in his stomach were back, and more insistent than ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man in the room with him was perhaps in his early twenties, dark-haired, extremely handsome, and undeniably Voldemort. </span>
</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p>
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